100 Songfics
by BillieMaysSaysKaboom
Summary: i know i put this under "parodies and spoofs" but that's the closest thing that came to it. i'm doing an overall rating of M just to cover future entries.There might be additional ratings.this'll take a while to finish, by the way, so just keep checking!
1. Just To Get High

_The graveyard is eerily silent, the only sound being the sharp call of a bird somewhere in the skeleton-like branches of a tree. No one is here except for me. It has only been 4 months since I was last here. Four months since the funeral. Four months since a part of me died. _

_I stand in front of the grave, fresh dirt speckling the hem of my black mourning skirt. The wind lifts my loose brunette hair off my neck, tangled and unbrushed. I clutch a bouquet of fresh roses, red as blood, a black ribbon holding the stems together. I slowly kneel down until I can touch the smooth granite tombstone. The suface has no markings except for a name and years of birth and death. Alex Morgan, 1991-2008. Seventeen years. Today is the day he would've turned 18. He had his whole life ahead of him. He had so many chances to turn around. But it was too late. _I _was too late. _

He was my best friend  
I tried to help him  
But he traded everything for suffering  
And found himself alone

I remember when we met. It was at my friend Sara's Halloween house party. I was sitting on a porch swing, looking up at the stars and not really talking to anybody. Since Sara lived on the edge of town, there were no city lights to obstruct the view. I heard a voice ask, "Someone call seat backs?" I looked up and saw a guy standing there, a cup of punch in his hands. I let him, and he sat down. He told me his name was Alex, and we just started talking. Since it was a Halloween party, I was in my costume; I noticed Alex didn't eye my costume the way other guys had been. (It was a little slutty---red fishnets, black heeled boots, short and low-cut dress---the whole thing.) Alex was quiet and intelligent compared to my outspoken goth chick personality, but I liked him right away. We found we had a lot in common. We liked alot of the same music. We both liked to read, draw, street dance, and play video games. I could play the electric guitar while he was a klutz at all instuments. Our birthdays were only a week apart. We both wanted to go join the Navy; his father had been an Ensign. My grandfather had been a Lieutenant on a submarine and my father had been a Captain on a destroyer.

I was a rebel, like most cocky teenagers. I had an attitude of 'If you don't like it, piss off' where Alex was more the 'Just shut up and you'll survive' type of guy. I could kick anybody's ass and was up for challenges while Alex was more passive. He wasn't a coward; he just wasn't as confident as I was about being outspoken. As we grew, so did our friendship, and with that, our dependence on each other.

My home life had become increasingly difficult. My dad was an ex-alcoholic who was still trying to cope with staying clean; he got angry alot and was in a recovery program in another city, so we didn't get to see him that often. My mom smoked marijuana and didn't really give a damn about what I did. She slept a lot and struggled to pay the bills. My older brother was on parole for car robberies and drug dealing. I myself had crack, cocaine, and even heroin, but I just never got hooked. Alcohol and weed weren't addictiong; I could stop whenever I wanted. I didn't need drugs to be happy. They just made me feel good when I needed a lift. I began to rely on Alex more and more to get me away from my crappy life because he had it so easy. Then we found out that his mother had developed breast cancer and was given only seven months to live. That's when it started.

I watched the lying  
Turn into hiding  
With scars on both his lips  
His fingertips were melted to the bone

I started seeing less and less of him. I didn't think much of it at first since I myself had been cutting class to drink or smoke some maijuana. But then I would go an entire week without seeing him, and when he did show up, he avoided me. I started asking around and found out that he had started smoking crack cocaine. I had kind of figured it out since I could see the signs. The funny thing was, he hadn't told me he started using drugs. Why? Alex had never hid anything from me. In fact, we told and trusted each other with everything. Or so I thought.

_I should've asked earlier. Life doesn't always give us second chances._

But I can still remember what his face looked like  
When I found him in an alley in the middle of the night

I was walking past Cuttroat Alley one night--someone's twisted word play on an alley where alot of suicides were committed--when I saw him. He was kneeling on the ground, shaking violently. Tears dripped down his face when he looked up at me. And I saw everything in the most tortured face I had ever seen. I dropped to my knees and held him, neither of us saying a word. We didn't need to. He knew I already knew. I knew, but I didn't understand. I was lost to the reason why.

Tell me what you know  
Tell me what you've gone and done now  
A gun'll do the trick to get it over with  
You're better off to take all that you got  
'N burn it on the spot  
Just to get high, high, high, high

I was over at his house one night when he told me everything from the beginning. He had started smoking when his mother had entered chemotherapy. By the time the cancer was successfully removed, crack cocaine had become a part of Alex's life. He couldn't stop; he needed it to function normally. He spent every penny on it and smoked it in alleys and empty parking lots with other druggies. He hid from his friends and excluded himself from his family. He knew he needed to stop, but he couldn't. He _wanted_ to stop, but he needed it to survive.

He had access to firearems at home. He told me he had had suicidal thoughts and wanted to take one of his dad's pistols to his head, ready to pull the trigger. He never did, but he came close. He considered himself dead already, even to me.

Three days no sleeping  
He gave up eating  
He sold his mother's rings  
She said nothing and pretended not to know

He needed more money to buy more crack. He gave up everything for the sake of being high. All he could think about was when he could get his next dose of crack. All he could do was smoke crack. He stole and sold his mother's wedding rings and other jewelry. She knew. His entire family knew. They thought it was just an 'angry, confused teenager' phase.

He started stealing  
To supply the feeling  
Found out he pulled a knife on someone's wife  
And held it to her throat

He learned how to pick locks. He figured out which houses were unlocked during the day. He began to steal from people he knew as well as random people on the street. Jewelry, money, clothes, shoes, and even a couple of cars were stolen because he was so desperate. Two months before he died, he saw a woman with a wallet full of cash. And he needed more money for more of the drug. So he threatened to slit her throat unless he gave him the money. Alex found himself with a handful of twenties and handcuffs around his wrists. He spents 10 days in Juvenile Hall.

But I can still remember what his face looked like  
When I found him in an alley in the middle of the night  
Tell me what you know  
Tell me what you've gone and done now  
A gun'll do the trick  
To get it over with  
You're better off to take all that you got  
'N burn it on the spot  
Just to get high, high, high, high

He knew his life was gone. He saw it happen, just like the rest of us. His money was gone, the crack dealers were dry, his girlfriend had dumped him, and I was his only friend. He knew he had made a train wreck of his life. He had watched it happen, day by day, like we all did. And yet he continued to let it go downhill. We let him dig himself deeper into the pit he had created.

Tell me what you did  
Where you got it hid  
Show me, it's what you really want  
Watchin' what you got, slowly  
Circling the drain, throw it all away  
Just to get high, high, high, high

He watched his life unravel before his eyes without doing anything to reverse it. But it wasn't his fault. The signs were all there. We could've helped him, but we didn't. Instead, we let him suffer in silence alone. By the time one of us reached out to him, it was already too late.

Tell me what you know  
Tell me what you've gone and done now  
A gun'll do the trick  
To get it over with  
You're better off to take all that you got  
'N burn it on the spot  
Just to get high, high, high, high

One day, he was home alone. Alex had made up his mind. He called me; he said he loved me and he was sorry, but he had to do what he had to do. By the time I got over to his house, he had already pulled the trigger to deliver the fatal shot.

I couldn't stop crying. The paramedics said I couldn't have done anything for him, that he had too much cocaine in his system and would've died from an overdose anyway.

_But I knew I could have done more when Alex was still alive.__ A lot more._

Tell me what you did  
Where you got it hid  
Show me, it's what you really want  
Watchin' what you got, slowly  
Circling the drain, throw it all away  
Just to get high, high, high, high

_Today would've been his 18th birthday. He would've graduated high school. He would've accepted a $2500 scholarship to Stanford. He would've been congradulated instead of having a lone friend mourn him 4 months after a much-too-early funeral. Now he lies 6 feet under, cold and alone, like the year before. Four months ago he said his last goodbyes, but it doesn't seem like he's gone completely. Maybe it's a false hope that he's still alive and this was all just a mistake. Or maybe it's because I remember. I remember his story. __  
_  
Circling the drain, throw it all away  
Just to get high, high, high, high

_I reach out an arm and let the flowers fall from my pale grip, a few tears landing on the dark red petals. I wipe my eyes and stand up, giving a silent prayer. I look once more at the near-blank tombstone. A tombstone I won't be seeing for another 6 months. And as hard as it is, I walk away._


	2. Kiss My Eyes, Lay Me To Eternal Sleep

This is what I brought you  
This you can keep  
This is what I thought  
You may forget me

She is in a richly embroidered red dress, made of the softest silk. She sits, straight-backed, on the neatly made bed arranged with pillows and warm down comforters. A fireplace lies unlit, waiting to host a blazing fire. She is seventeen years old, with a clear complexion and silver eyes. Her skin is pale from lack of sunlight and her wavy brunette hair lies flat against her back. The evening sun spills reddish golden light onto the floor. A silent tear drips down her cheek and onto the white pearls at her neck. She sits like this every day, waiting in a prison of comfort. She is kept isolated by _him_.

When the sun dips below the horizon, she smoothes the pleats of her dress, brushes her hair, and slips into a pair of ruby red heels. She crosses the spacious room to the oak double doors, stopping to gaze at the elaborate carvings. A maze of flowers, vines, dragons, phoenixes, basilisks, and an assortment of wild beasts adorned the ancient wood. One thing seperats her from the dormant carvings---the animals they represent are free, while she is a prisoner of a madman. She can have anything she wants, but she cannot escape.

I promised you my heart  
Just promise one thing  
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

He is expecting her as always. He kisses her hand and leads her to the dining hall where an elaborate feast is prepared, as always. A table is set with crystal, china, and a white linen tablecloth by a blazing fire. There is a bouquet of yellow roses and baby's breath in the center. A crystal chandelier sparkles overhead, catching the light from dozens of candles around the room. He pulls out a gilded chair for her and she sits on the padded leather seat. Her serves her dinner on a plate decorated with tiny roses--roasted swan and duck, frog's legs, sharkfin soup, wild boar, rabbit and venison stew, baked caribou loaf. After she eats her fill, he allows her a slice of black forest ribbon cake. She finishes; he takes her hand and leads her to the library. Once she is seated comfortably in a plush leather chair, he scans the mahogany shelves, finally settling on a leather-bound book of poetry. He reads to her, receiving nothing other than a blank stare. He sighs and closes the book. He tries so hard to appease her. He thinks if he keeps her long enough, she will soften up sooner or later. He gives her everything so she can live in the greatest comfort. He believes it is his duty to see that she lives in the ourest happiness--even if it means living with him forever.

This is what I brought you  
This you an keep  
This is what I thought  
You may forget me

When the old grandfather clock chimes 9 o' clock, he leads her up the marble stairs to her bedroom. He opens the doors and she strides inside to her bed. He softly closes the doors and turns down the hall. He waits with patience. She will tell him when she is ready.

I promised you my heart  
Just promise to sing  
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

Soon there is a small knock from inside her door. He goes to knock once, twice. The door opens. Her liquid silver eyes reflect her powder blue nightgown. He takes her delicate arm and leads her to her bed. She begins to sing. Her voice is like the whisper of flower petals and soft rain on roses. He closes his eyes and lets his mind wander, aware of nothing but her voice.

When she finishes, he brings her a cool glass of lemon water. She drains the glass and he puts her to bed, kissing her on the forehead, the nose, the cheek. She closes her eyes and he blows out the candles around the room. He shuts the thick purple drapes at her window and steals one last look at her before shutting the doors. He fits a small brass key into the outside lock, whispering, "Sleep the sleep of angels, my darling."

This is what I brought you  
This you can keep  
This is what I thought  
You think me naive

_I am alone in this house, this prison. My captor is a madman who does not know the magnitude of what he is doing to me; he says he was transfixed by my flawless beauty. I am not beautiful. Crystal and Denise and Sarah are far prettier than me. I was a runaway; now I am better off than I was before, but it is still only half a life. The luxury and comfort are cancelled out by my lack of freedom. He is blind to his own insanity. He thinks I am happy here, but he does not know how wrong he is. _

I promised you my heart  
Just promise on thing  
Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

_He has me sing to him every night. He gives me closthes of the finest quality, jewelry of the best materials, furnishings with the finest craftsmanship. He feeds me well and reads me fine works of literature. I can wander in the massive gardens outside na dspend all day ouside, but I choose not to. If I can stay inactive for as long as he keeps me here, he will get bored with me and let me leave. The house is unlocked during the day, but I am afraid to leave. I am afraid he will hunt me down until he finds me and punishes me. That is why I cannot leave. He has never shown anger towards me, but there's a first time for everything. _

_I always have a hot bath, a soft bed, and clean clothes that are not threadbare in this house. He tells me he loves me everyday. He lavishes me with material things to prove it. He wants me to stay here forever with him. Beautiful forever. Young forever. But it is not to be._

Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

_I will escape from this place one day. He will not stop me and he will not find me. But I must wait for now. I must wait for the right moment. I must appease him temporarily so he doesn't watch me to closely. I need time to create a plan. _

_Everyone has a flaw, but he believes that he and I are perfect. I f he knew that I am brilliantly talented with getting my way out of these things, he would not let me go; rather, he would kill me. Then he would not think I am so perfect, would he? I am already formulating plans to escape, but it is my fear that keeps me from escaping. _

Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep

_I light a candle by my bedside, a thick white one, and hols a string of rosary beads, praying for the Virgin Mary to guide my way. I am about to make a circle of candles when I hear light footsteps approaching my door. Blowing out the candle, I lay back in bed, slowing my breathing to give him the impression that I am sleeping. _

The key turns, latch clicks, and the door glides open smoothly. He walks over to her bed, silent as a hunting wolf, listening to her breathing. Satisfied that she is asleep, he quietly closes the door. He locks is and walks away. She listens until his footsteps fade to black.

Kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep...


End file.
